First Light Read online

  “What do you want me to do?” Hale asked. “I’ll not hunt fairies. That’s a more hopeless pastime than trying to steal an enchanted, heavily guarded princess.”

  “There is something else,” Nadamaris said. Mentally she began choosing another to

  accompany him. She needed someone strong enough to help Hale, yet stupid enough that he wouldn’t realize the bracelet’s true value. “The rumors at the sea continue. It’s said there are pearls—”

  “Ah.” Hale let out a long, slow breath, his face a curious mixture of regret and relief. “You’ve not only three gifts to fear but now the possibility of an enchanted bracelet as well. If it wasn’t before, your cause is most certainly lost now.”

  “I fear nothing! And our cause is very much alive.” Nadamaris’s hands shot out, fingers flexed, nails extended. Staring at her son, she raked the air in front of her, watching with satisfaction as two sets of bloodied stripes appeared on either side of his face. Hale yelped and tried to turn away, but she held him fast with her gaze until the blood was dripping down to his shirt. Bored of the torture, she at last looked away, and he fell forward, alternately gasping in pain and cursing her.

  Ignoring him, she examined her pristine nails, completely unaffected by the damage they’d inflicted. “So much easier this way,” she murmured with satisfaction, pleased once more that she’d mastered her visual and mind focus so well. It was one of her favorite tools in her ever-growing arsenal of powers. Life had been far less messy— for her, anyway— since she’d started doing everything remotely. She’d likely never have to touch anyone again.

  Transformation was another of her choice abilities, and Nadamaris considered it now as she studied Hale, wondering if he might have better success acquiring the bracelet were he in another form. A mouse perhaps? But no. To intercept the pearls before they reached the capital of Canelia and the princess, he would have to travel a great distance. And— for all his other incompetencies— he was an excellent horseman.

  At her inaudible command, Hale’s head snapped up, looking in her direction.

  “Do not mistake fear for want. And do not fail to bring me what I want.” She turned to the table, staring once more at the flowers. “Before the final heart has bloomed, I want those pearls in my possession.”

  “We’re stuck with her,” Eddie announced as he ducked under the low doorway and entered the cottage. He held a letter in his hand. “No one wants her— er— you,” he said, eyes sliding toward the corner of the room, where I sat with mortar and pestle, drying herbs spread across the table. It was obvious he hadn’t expected me to be inside, but out in the forest, where I spent most daylight hours.

  “Give that to me,” Vetrie, my sister-in-law, ordered, snatching the parchment from his fingers. She opened it and squinted her eyes, trying to decipher the letters. Of course she couldn’t.

  With a sigh I held out my hand.

  Eddie took the letter— the eighth received over the past days— and handed it to me, albeit reluctantly. I pressed it flat on the table and moved the tallow candle closer. Though it was midday, the sod home, built into the side of a hill, let in little sunlight. Skimming the letter, I saw that it was from my sisters Cassandra and Brianna. That left only my eldest sister, Cecilia, who had not responded to Eddie’s plea, and I’d heard him confiding in the night to Vetrie— when they’d believed me long asleep— that he didn’t believe we would hear from Cecilia. She lived so far away and had been so long removed from our family, that he doubted she’d feel any sympathy for our plight.

  “Have you forgotten how to read? Get on with it,” Vetrie snapped, flapping her hands toward the parchment.

  Suppressing another sigh, I passed over the formalities and cleared my throat, getting right to the heart of the matter.

  “‘We understand how frightfully difficult it must be finding anyone to take Adrielle, the poor child being both dull-witted and clumsy to boot. Heaven knows, with our busy lives, we could do with someone to wash and launder. However, the thought of broken crockery and scorched undergarments is too horrible to bear.’”

  “Of all the wretched, rotten, selfish…” Vetrie muttered.

  I’d have been inclined to agree with her, were she describing herself. Though she did have a point about my two sisters. When they’d lived at home, they treated me little better than a servant, and I didn’t imagine much would be different now. They boarded in the village, scraping together a living as seamstresses, though really they’d always thought themselves above such work— any work. A more snobbish and sulky pair I’d never known.

  I continued reading.

  “‘Adrielle is trouble enough on your tiny farm. One can only imagine the difficulties such a simple-minded thing could get into in an actual village such as ours. If she weren’t so scrawny and stubborn, you might be able to trick some unwitting farmer into marrying her to one of his more boorish sons, but 'tis likely even a country bumpkin would send her back. The best we can all hope for her is a scullery maid position in a kitchen with rather thickish plates and cups and nowhere near the ovens, or any open flame for that matter…’”

  Head downcast, I read the remainder of the letter silently, my eyes smarting from their rebukes.

  “I won’t have it.” Vetrie planted her hands on ample hips as she squared off, facing Eddie. He sent her a silencing look.

  “Adrielle, go up to the barn and do the milking for me.” I could tell his tone was meant to be kind, but there was a definite strain in his voice.

  “Of course.” I left quickly, though I knew as well as he that the cow shouldn’t be milked for at least another two hours. Anything to get away from Vetrie. But I did not get away quick enough. I’d scarce crossed the stoop outside when her words carried through the open window.

  “I won’t be having a murderer live here. Who knows what she’d likely do to me, what with the way she burnt her own father to a crisp.”

  I fought back tears as I crossed my arms in front of me to ward off both the chill outside and the cold words stabbing at my heart. My thin, too-large, hand-me-down dress slipped from my shoulder, and I yanked it back up in a fit of anger. I started to turn toward the cottage. intending to march back in and face Vetrie and say something equally hurtful to her.

  Patience, Adrielle.

  The thought, words Father had spoken to me many times, gave me pause. I resisted the urge to lash out, instead taking the time to think things through— something I seldom did but oft wished I had. If neglect and impulsive behavior had been my trademarks before, I vowed care and thoughtfulness would now replace them. I must do better. For Mother and Papa.

  I took a deep breath and walked farther from the house, away from the raised voices within. The truth was, I didn’t want to live with my brother and sister-in-law. Not only was their home damp, smelly, and depressingly dark, but I was fairly certain Vetrie was right. I might kill her if I stayed here. After little more than a fortnight in her company, I was already imagining possibilities for her demise.

  When the ceiling dripped and crumbled, I wondered what would happen if the entire roof were to cave in— while she was home alone. When she drove to visit her parents, I imagined a wheel breaking and the wagon going over the steep embankment. The times she nodded off in the afternoon sun, I daydreamed of what would happen if she simply never woke up. But should one of those come to pass— whether I intended it or not—that could be my ruin as well.

  What if I really can make terrible things happen just by thinking them? It was an awful thought. But I had wanted Mother to leave me alone. And then…

  There was similar talk among the local folk; I’d heard the rumors from Vetrie herself. How was it possible that I, known healer in these parts, had not been able to save my own mother? And worse, why had I started the fire that killed my father? Before Mother died, I had been a friend and helper to many. With her passing, and Father’s horrific death, that changed.

  I couldn’t answer their accusations, so I rarely le
ft Father’s property. Shame and sorrow forced me to the woods most days. No one was there to hear me weep, and the continuous task of searching out, collecting, and preserving plants felt soothing. I knew what I gathered might be used to heal another, and that was the closest I would get to bringing my parents back.

  Aside from the trouble I’d be in if Vetrie met with misfortune of any sort, I knew Papa would have been disappointed in me if he knew my thoughts regarding her. This bothered me even more than the knowledge that everything about me had disappointed Mother. Silently, I vowed again to be better.

  But I could not be better here. The cottage was cramped, and my sleeping on the floor beside Eddie and Vetrie’s bed had done neither’s temper any good. It was plain I was not wanted— not wanted anywhere just now. I needed to go somewhere I might be useful and valued.

  Or, at the very least, not loathed.

  I stopped when I reached the road. One direction would take me to our homestead and all that was familiar yet painful. I knew the other way led to Willowbie, though I could not recall ever having gone there. If I went now, could I find a position with room and board? Maybe someone would hire me to scrub floors or wash laundry, though it was depressing to think of being bent over a floor or washtub all day, my hands raw and red from lye.

  But I cannot stay here. What else can I do? What service can I provide? Mentally I tallied the skills I possessed and found none to be desirous for long-term employ, except—

  What if I worked for the apothecary? The possibility resurrected a smile my face had not held in weeks. I knew the flora of our hills and valleys by heart. Before Mother’s death, I’d often gathered the precious plants and sold them to the tinker when he came through. From there, he took them to Willowbie for use by the local apothecary. Would he not favor a girl with my kind of skill in his shop?

  I took several steps toward home and crested the hill that looked down on what had been our farm. On the distant horizon storm clouds clustered angrily. Come this way, I silently begged. But they never did. It was as if something in the heavens had broken and the clouds were restrained from entering our land. Perhaps old McClurry was right and God’s wrath was upon us. Upon me.

  My eyes were again drawn to the patch of scorched earth. After the fire, nothing of the house remained, and even worse— there had been nothing of Father left to bury. Sometimes at night, when my sorrow was too great to bear, I allowed myself to imagine that he had escaped. He had gone in search of help, and any minute now, he would be returning to bring me to our new home.

  You must find your new home, Adrielle. I imagined his kind voice guiding me. Finding strength in it, I turned my tear-filled eyes away from the blurred images below.

  “I will, Papa.” With untested courage, I started down the road toward Willowbie.

  I’d walked but a few minutes when hoofbeats sounded in front of me. I half-stepped then jumped off to the side as a sleek, black carriage thundered toward me at breakneck speed. It careened to a halt, barely avoiding running me over. I coughed as dust billowed around my feet.

  The driver, a plump little old woman— Women drive carriages?— dressed in baggy trousers and a rather tight jacket called to me. “Mistress Adrielle?”

  “Ye— es,” I stammered. Do I know her? I held a hand up to shield my eyes from the sun reflecting off the polished side.

  Before I had time to blink, the driver jumped to the ground, took down the step, and opened the door. She extended her arm, motioning for me to get in— something I had not the least intention of doing.

  “Who are you?” I asked, stepping back.

  “Zipporah, your humble servant.” She bowed so low she swept the ground. Her unusual name certainly matched her odd behavior. “Please hurry. We must be on our way if we’re to reach Tallinyne before tomorrow midnight.”

  “Tallinyne? All the way to the capital?” A flurry of excitement set my heart to beating faster. No one would know me there. Surely I’d be able to find work.

  And if women in Tallinyne are allowed to drive coaches… I eyed the strange driver, busy turning her head to and fro at a rather frightening speed. There was something definitely peculiar about her, about this whole situation. Still—

  Tallinyne.

  Aside from the possibility of finding work, there was my eldest sister to consider. I’d seen the envelope addressed to Cecilia and knew she lived somewhere in Tallinyne. I’d never met her that I could recall. She’d left home shortly after my birth, but perhaps I could find her.

  “Ahem.” Zipporah cleared her throat. Her toe tapped the ground impatiently.

  I took a step closer and peeked inside the carriage. It was empty.

  “Where are your other passengers?” I’d never seen any sort of coach this fine on our country roads. “How did you know my name?” My eyes narrowed, and once again I backed up, ready to run. I had the strangest feeling this spry old woman might easily catch me if I did, though.

  “Did my father send you?” In my heart, I knew what her answer would be, but still I had to ask. During our last lesson Father had spoken to me of magic. What if—

  “No, Adrielle. He did not.” The words were spoken kindly, and her eyes shown with compassion. But that brief moment of hope cost me dearly.

  If this carriage is not from Father, then who? It was all very disturbing. Perhaps Vetrie had arranged for my demise before I could think anymore on hers. But no, she would not have gone to such expense.

  Zipporah chuckled. “You’re right. Vetrie did not arrange for this carriage. Though I’ve no doubt her eyes would bulge with jealousy were she to see you riding in it. Shall we take a short detour on our way, so we— she— might have that pleasure?”

  “How do you know of Vetrie?” I demanded, certain my own eyes were near to bulging. I did not trust this woman and became less inclined to do so the more she seemed to read my thoughts.

  “Ah yes. Sorry about that. Sister did warn me about leaving your thoughts alone.” Zipporah attempted to look contrite, but I was not convinced.

  “'Tis only that I knew you long ago, when you were a babe. And we’ve waited so long to see you all grown up, Adrielle.”

  “We?”

  “Ack!” She rolled her eyes and head in one dizzying motion. “Now I’ve gone and done it and said more than I ought.”

  “Who is we?” Instead of backing away, I took a step closer.

  She ignored my question. “In or out, young lady? Either way, I’ve got to be off.” She bounced up and down on her toes, as if all this standing around was very difficult.

  I stared hard at her, then at the carriage, its cushioned seats beckoning. Did I want to go to Tallinyne? The stir of excitement, hope, and possibility returned. As did my memory of Mother’s lessons on manners. Had she known? Was it Mother who arranged this before— I longed to ask but somehow knew Zipporah would decline to answer.

  “You don’t need to trust me— just yourself,” she said. I met her eye. “What is it you want, Adrielle?”

  I want a new life. I want to do good somewhere, to somehow make up for my awful wrongs.

  I took another step toward the carriage, telling myself this was the right thing and not another of my foolish, rash decisions. Taking Zipporah’s hand, I climbed inside. The door shut behind me before I’d even taken my seat, and the carriage gave a sudden lurch.

  The feeling in my heart matched. Please let this be right.

  I stuck my head out the window, watching as everything I’d ever known disappeared.

  I knew nothing of the center of the kingdom where my eldest sister lived, the place we journeyed toward at reckless speed. I was awed that the horses could pull us so fast and smoothly and realized Zipporah must be very skilled and strong to drive so well. I felt more than a little curious about her and almost wished I’d thought to ask if I might join her up top.

  Not that the inside of the carriage was lacking. The cushioned seats were the softest, crushed velvet— my hands had yet to tire of touching them
, swirling patterns into the impressionable cloth— and a basket of pastries and drink lay waiting. A blanket and feather pillow sat on the seat beside me, and I guessed they meant we’d be traveling through the night without stopping.

  I didn’t even know how far away Tallinyne was.

  Sudden anxiety seized me. My fingers dug into the plush velvet, and I fought to keep my breathing calm. What if I couldn’t find my sister? What if this carriage wasn’t really going to the capital? What if the wine in the bottles was poisoned and would stop the beating of my heart with my first swallow?

  Alone in the carriage that was nearly flying, my imagination ran as wildly as the horses, but after several fearful hours, I found I was too tired to care. I had no idea how far we’d traveled or what direction we were going. The sun appeared to be setting on both sides. I’d never be able to find my way home.

  I told myself that didn’t matter. I’d escaped Vetrie’s sharp tongue, my thoughtless siblings, the gossiping villagers, and the charred earth where our home had been— the daily reminder of my carelessness and what it had cost.

  The sun sank low on an endless horizon, and the carriage traveled ever faster. My eyelids grew heavy until I gave in to sleep, my last thought that surely the place I was going would be better than the one I’d just left.

  When I next awoke the sun rose behind us, and we were traveling west. I was not alone in the carriage. I found this more than a little alarming and wondered if the sip of wine I’d had sometime in the night contained valerian and had caused an unnaturally deep sleep. I could think of no other explanation for having missed the carriage stopping and another passenger coming aboard. Concerned, I eyed the roundish, rosy-cheeked, merry-looking woman sitting across from me, fingers dashing with the knitting needles in her hands. She reminded me a bit of the driver, though with a much more feminine manner.

  I watched, at first wary, then fascinated, as the garment she wove doubled in size before my eyes.